


Colour my life with the chaos of trouble.

by nocturnalawoken



Series: Mormor Smut Drabbles/Fics [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Belle and Sebastian - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Murder Husbands, Porn, SEBASTIAN - Freeform, Smut, geddit?, i'm funny, mormor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnalawoken/pseuds/nocturnalawoken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Using a line from the Belle and Sebastian song 'The Boy with the Arab Strap' as the title, but this isn't a songfic!)</p><p>Sebastian sometimes finds it hard to remember what life was like before Jim. Well one thing's certain; it was boring as fuck.</p><p>Rated for Strong language (throughout), Porn (from chapter 2 onwards), some violence, threats, the general MorMor-esque things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colour my life with the chaos of trouble.

With his heart thumping against his sternum and blood pounding in his ears, Sebastian Moran forged a half-hearted, lopsided smile to himself in honour of his latest accomplishment. After 4 hours of waiting on his stomach in torrential rain, gravel puncturing the skin of his forearms, at 765 yards, the bullet from his AEK-971 -a much appreciated Christmas present from the Boss after his 'business trip' to Russia- went right through the  _conveniently_  open window and straight into the  _conveniently_ waiting unlucky entrepreneur's skull. Fucking  _ace_ _._ Well, he wasn't called the crack shot colonel for nothing.   
His breath escaped in short ragged bursts, creating puffs of billowing steam in the harsh January air as he ran his index finger down the thin barrel of the rifle, biting his lip at the pleasant heat beneath his calloused skin. Beautiful. Absolutely bloody _brilliant.  
_ The pure ambience of the slowing rain and a distant sound of traffic was almost perfect, until Moran caught sight of the time on his watch and shattered the illusion with a shout of “ _Bollocks!”,_ snapping himself out of his daze before quickly disassembling the rifle with the skilled, nimble fingers of his right hand, and pulling his phone out of his pocket with his left. He pressed ‘1’ on speed dial and propped the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he continued to take apart the weapon.

 _Ringing  
Ringing  
Ringing_  
  
 _“Hi this is Richard,”  
_ Sebastian huffed. “Jim it’s only me you don’t ha…”  
 _“You’ve reached me! Congratulations! –muffled laughing- Sorry I can’t take your call right now, I must be busy filming. –more muffled laughing-“  
_ “Oh you absolute tosser.”  
 _“Leave me a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you, cheers!”_  
“4am? When the fuck did it turn 4am Jim? You were meant to call at 2. This place fucking opens in half an hour!” He exhaled heavily and closed his eyes. “You better be awake when I get home you Irish fucker, and if you’re not, I will personally castrate you. Dickhead.” He spat, packing the last of his equipment into an inconspicuous gym bag.  
“Oh and since when have you been Richard on your voicemail as well? I swear you’re a fucking method actor sometimes.” And with that, he hung up, sliding the horrendously expensive phone back into the pocket of his too-tight jeans. It had just begun to get light as he made his way down from the rooftop, bag slung over his shoulder and sandy blonde hair still slicked to perfection.

Professional as ever, Sebastian crept out through the back doors, and hailed the first cab he could find on the streets of Shepherds Bush at Four Thirty in the morning.

 _‘God bless London and her ever-running taxi service’_ he thought to himself.

“St. John’s Wood please, St. Edmund’s Terrace.” He asked the cabbie in his ‘business voice’, something comparable to the likes of Prince William.  
The driver was an older man, probably in his late 50s, with the face of Phil Mitchell and the cockney drawl of a Pearly King. “Bloody ‘ell, Primrose ‘ill… you an MP or summin’?”  
Sebastian smirked to himself. “Something like that.” He climbed in to the back of the taxi and as it drove off, he proceeded to check his phone.

**1 new message. From _JIM._**

**/Must have dozed off. _Sorry._ –JM**

“Fucking _sorry?”_ Sebastian said to himself, just a little bit too loud.

“Did’ya say summin?” The cabbie asked, turning round to Moran.  
“Oh, ah, no. Sorry. Just muttering to myself.” He forced himself to give a tight lipped smile to the man, before letting it drop abruptly as he turned back to face to road.

**/I’ll give you sorry, you sodding bastard. The fucker’s dead, in case you wanted to know. –SM**

“You don’t look like an MP, that’s for sure.”

Sebastian looked up from his phone with a confused expression, shaking his head slightly. “Sorry?”

“I said you don’t look like an MP, that’s for sure. You look like a bloody secret agent, that’s what you look like! All in black like that bloody James Bond!” He finished with an obnoxious, snorting laugh.  
Sebastian could feel his eye beginning to twitch, yet kept a cool façade, his smile only faltering slightly.  
“Haha… yes, quite.” He found it somewhat difficult to mask the disinterest in his voice therefore diverted his attention back to the phone.

**/You could have checked the time yourself. Are you not wearing the watch I bought you? The Police one? I    find the irony simply _beautiful._ -JM**

**/Can’t really keep my eye on my watch when I’m staring through a fucking scope can I? –SM**  
  
“What’re you doin’ out and about this early in the mornin’ anyway?”

Sebastian tried as hard as he could to suppress a growl.  
“I had some… business to attend to.” He answered through gritted teeth.  
“And what business is that then?” The cabbie replied almost instantaneously, and that was the last straw for Sebastian.  
“Unless you would like to find out what my _business_ is the hard way, then I would suggest that you keep your mouth _shut_ and take me to my destination. Thank you for your cooperation.”

It seemed to do the trick, as for the rest of the journey, the insufferable driver -who now wore a look of complete terror on his face- kept his mouth well and truly closed, except for a small mutter of “No charge, Sir.” as they reached the house.

Sebastian didn’t even attempt to hide the smug look on his face as he walked up the path to the front door of the rather grand looking Victorian town house. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he loved playing high and mighty. Before letting himself in, he checked his phone again.  
  
  **/Oh I like you best when you’re angry. I do hope you’re on your way home. –JM**

Now, even though Sebastian was angry, when Jim was in a mood like this, he _knew_ he had to savour it, because to be quite honest, they were about as rare as a blue moon.

**/ That’s why I’m always angry. Fancy a drink? –SM**

Smiling to himself, Sebastian unlocked the door and dropped his bag in the hallway, making his way into the kitchen.

“You did well today, Tiger.” A familiar trill of a voice rang through the house as Sebastian took down a couple of glasses from the cupboard. “Had a call from the clean-up team,” he could hear light footsteps slowly coming down the staircase as he poured two generous amounts of whisky “they said it was immaculate.” A figure appeared at the doorway as he put the glass to his lips. “Right between the eyes.” And there Jim stood. Suited and booted at 5 in the morning. “And you know how happy that makes me, don’t you Sebastian?” His Irish twang mixed with a verging on psychopathic smile said it all really.

“Yeah Boss, yeah I do.”

“Then finish your drink and come to bed before I slice your throat and pour it in the wound.”

**Author's Note:**

> And there we go! Chapter 1 complete!  
> (Smut will ensue, I promise. It always does.)  
> My first actual fic ooooooh.  
> The taxi driver is based on my own cabbie who takes me to work every morning. Never stops asking questions bless him. I don't threaten him, though.


End file.
